


That one time in Seminary....

by countallurteeth



Category: MCR - Fandom, My Chemical Romance, MyChem - Fandom, frerard - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countallurteeth/pseuds/countallurteeth
Summary: Priest-in-training Gerard thinks he sees the Virgin Mary but no, it's just a very pretty boy who's hiding in the Seminary chapel for some....odd reason.....(summary in progress, probably a short ficlet)
Relationships: frerard - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Intro. Sorta.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [god himself](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=god+himself).



_ (intro sorta) _

Gerad lay awake at night, every night. He couldn't put it into the right words to convey why, exactly. He just did. Some nights, he felt  _ Fly me to the Moon _ , breathing staccato and blinking fast enough to erase memories at the speed of light. They never really went away, though. Part of him hoped they didn’t, and the other part was prying his eyes open Clockwork Orange style. Other nights, he was restringing a piano, stringing every string to the  _ wrong _ string with hands of glass, and wondering where he even went wrong. Tonight was the third of these options: Simply not tired. He was awake, his long, dyed black hair slick against his body with sweat. They had no fucking air conditioning here, which was nice in the way that it reminded him of older times, but simultaniously horrendous in that Jersey wasn’t cool during the summer. Gerard didn’t really think anywhere was cool in the summer, besides maybe Antarctica. 

The nights were probably the hardest part of Seminary. Classes were easy, since Gerard had been going to Mass since he could just barely stumble. Every day was Mass, classes, group prayer, classes, and sleep. It was all so easy. The nights weren’t exactly planned, though. No strict routine, no rules, no books to study. What did scripture have to say about sleepless nights? He could explain to you the meaning of any verse, in his own unique way, really. He’d read the bible at least fifteen times in whole, if not more than that, and read his favourite verses countless more times. None of them had helped with his overthinking, and no matter how much he read, the insomnia never eased up. 

He’d tried praying plenty, but he never really got a response. He’d seen God while tripping on acid, but that wasn’t the story he liked to tell for why he believed. He’d known God was real since the third grade, when the girl who’d been calling Gerard a “fat pig” for days on end broke her leg on the swingset. Or not necessarily then, but he’d been praying for her to get hurt for forever. He stopped wishing people would get hurt after that, mostly out of fear of something worse happening next time. Church had been important to his family, henceforth known as ‘the Ways’, and they’d been bringing him since he could crawl. The incense never failed to calm him, the rueful and calm singing grounding him for when he needed it the most. Church was the center of his world, the gravity that held him down when bullying or intoxicants tried to rule his mind. He’d been alienated from it young, when things got bad and his parents got too busy with his brother, Mikey, and his baseball games. He’d gotten sober over a certain summer, and after being held to the floor execution style with a gun pressed to his temple, he knew he needed faith back. Where does one even go from there? What meaning do you have when it can be taken away so easily? So Gerard made his own. He got back to church, started writing speeches and hymns, and reading, reading, reading. The priest who’d been with his family’s church since childhood said Gerard just  _ had _ to go into the priesthood. His parents loved the idea. Mikey didn’t, but Gerard didn’t really care about that. There was a wedge between them after that. 

Some nights were harder than others, and tonight was especially drawn out. He couldn’t focus on one thing, and yet, he felt like he had absolutely nothing to do. Gerard had to piss. Maybe that’s what he’d do. Getting up, he stretched a bit, his Guitar Hero pajama pants sagging on his feet where they were a bit too long for his full frame. Gerard was chubby, and he’d always been insecure about it, even though plenty had reassured him it was cute in fact. That didn’t ease his discomfort with it, nor did praying for weight loss. Sneaking through his room, he walked on tip toes, not quite gracefully, but gentle still. The floor was cold and tile, not a very modern layout, but he didn’t really mind. It was better than his shitty old trailer, in that shitty old trailer park, in that shitty old town in shitty old New Jersey. He still lived in Jersey, but at least he didn’t live in a trailer anymore. He’d only gone to Seminary because his parents pushed so hard- Not because he ‘had a gift’ or anything, but because they were sick of him being an alcoholic. They forced him into church camp for a summer after he’d been passed out drunk on the street at fourteen, and now here he was, nineteen and learning to become a virgin for the rest of his life. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ believe _ , and wouldn’t be just fine being a priest, it was that overall, this is not where he expected to be at nineteen. He expected to be fucking dead. 

Pissing was easier than laying awake and thinking. He went to the bathroom, did his thing. Nothing much to report on. The soap was in the shape of a cross, and it felt weird to hold in his hand, like it didn’t quite belong there. He knew crosses belonged there, of course, but this soap felt...satire. Like someone was denying him the worth of holding a real cross, or calling him too dirty enough to hold one, anyway. Too much analyzing, not enough handwashing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing is a simp-run shit show

Pissing. Soap crosses. The life of a technically almost-priest.

Footsteps from outside the bathroom sounded, and Gerard had to bite back a yelp. Nobody else was ever up at three, even the early-bird pray-ers who insisted the Lord liked it best at five in the morning. Part of Gerard had always wondered if God had a prayer preference- If you had to listen to millions of people every day, wouldn’t you prefer a certain format? Listening to that many people always baffled Gerard….How does He even do it? Personally, Gerard could only pay attention for so long, bored out of his mind in the droning of those less interesting. Everyone seemed boring these days anyway. Life was losing it’s spice. 

Drying his hands off on his pants, he snuck to the door, peering outside at what seemed like an endless hallway of nothing. There really was nothing. Nobody to make footsteps, nobody to breathe down the back of Gerard’s neck like in horror movies. He’d expected it, to say the least. 

But of course, there it was again. Pattering footsteps that sounded too light to be any man’s, but too heavy to be anything else. How the fuck did a lady get in here? 

Gerard silently made his way out of the bathroom and, of course, followed them. What else was he supposed to do? Try and not sleep some more? They echoed through the old halls, reverberating off stone and ancient metals forged to be a place of resounding noise. It only amplified the steps, really, and Gerard realized they might’ve been further than he realized. Maybe it was just a lost classmate, or someone on their way to their dorms. Then again, this was three am, and the footsteps were heading towards the chapel. 

If anything, Gerard rationally knew it was just someone who wanted to pray. However, inside, he felt like he was in some sort of spy movie, where he’d gather intel on shady happenings discussed over a late-night meeting at the altar. Or maybe an action movie, where he discovered the hopeless case in need of some company on a cold, dark night. And there was always the possibility he was in a horror movie, and he was about to get sensibly brutalized and killed off. He didn’t like that possibility so much. 

He stood at the door to the chapel itself, pried open, held open by what looked like a shoe of some sorts. Was this Cinderella now? Fiction seemed to be leaking into the hard fact Gerard was mostly used to, and if it meant he got a “fair maiden”, he wouldn’t exactly protest. 

Upon entering the chapel, however, he realized things were very different. She sat there, a halo of dim candlelight around her head, radiance in the dark Mary herself would envy. In fact, part of Gerard was certain this was Mary herself, whether she was in the flesh or just an apparition of a weeping creature too beautiful to last. Glints of silver peeked out from under her short, shaggy, brown hair, beads and jewelry cascading down her neck from the nape, and presumably hiding in front as well. A cross hung from her right ear, more distinct than the rest of her jewelery, black fabric trailing from her shoulders down to her bare, dirtied feet. Gerard claimed brilliance in her presence, clutching the door from far behind, candlelight hardly reaching him after being so sucked up in immaculate being. 

“Maria…” Gerard practically gasped out, in shock by the beauty such a being could hold. 

Mary turned around. Mary was a man. 

  
  


He was small for a man, presumably around five feet, but very clearly one indeed. He had safety pins sticking out of his ears in multiple places, presumably homebrew piercings of a sort, but the cross was still dangling from his right ear. He wore the usual outfit Gerard wore during the day- Black pants and a black dress shirt, the clerical collar peeking out from the shag of a haircut he had. It almost looked like a mullet, actually, very clearly cut by himself presumably after a long night in the bathroom. His eyes were puffy, as if he’d been crying, but he was still stunning in the low light of the room. How could Gerard claim anything but perfection for the creature before him? 

The stranger started at Gerard, who was still gawking, clearly spellbound. ‘Maria’, however (note: Maria is known as the Italian version of the Americanized ‘Mary’, though Gerard’s grandma always preferred the italian or latin versions of things better), was less impressed. 

“Can I help you?” His voice was high and sweet, like wind through a picket fence woven with morning glories and barbed wire. He was beautiful overall, a beauty Gerard had never seen nor proclaimed before God. Yet here he was- and the beauty of a man was what Gerard was processing, not even a woman as he had expected would happen. God works in mysterious ways, ways Gerard knew he shouldn’t try to understand. Maybe he was destined to be this stranger’s friend. Yeah. That sounded right. 

“Oh-!” Gerard had lost himself in thought again, and was undoubtedly staring. The stranger wore two rosaries around his neck- A red set and a white, both glimmering in the low light. “Sorry, I- Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Can’t a guy get some fucking peace and quiet to pray?” Gerard hadn’t expected such atrocities from such a pure-seeming mouth. This was love at first sight. At least, in one direction. 

“At three in the morning?” Gerard asked ashamedly, hands letting go of the door to wring themselves. He should know better than to violate someone’s privacy like that. 

“Yes, at three in the morning. Do you need something or what?” 

“...Can I come pray with you?”

The stranger sighed heavily, moving over a bit and nodding. Gerard walked up the candle-lit aisle, careful not to step on any flames or to knock any over. This really was a peaceful place, and Gerard could admire the dedication to one’s worship. It was obvious this stranger really needed this, whether or not it had to be at three am. 

Kneeling down next to the stranger, Gerard crossed himself before the altar, taking a peek over at the stranger. The man didn’t have his eyes closed- In fact, he was staring Gerard down in a rather judgemental manner. 

Gerard broke the awkward silence. The stranger’s eyes intimidated him more than his own mother’s. “I’m Gerard.”

“Is that a saint’s name or do your parents hate you?” Gerard froze,baffled and confused, but the stranger let out a laugh, and it tasted like a frisbee on a beach. “I’m Frankie. Frank. Don’t appreciate ‘Maria’, if it’s all the same to you.” 

Gerard’s face got red as he realized Frank had heard that. “Shoot- Sorry.” 

“‘Shoot’? Really? Are you still in fuckin’ church school in there?” He snapped a few times in front of Gerard’s face, and Gerard flinched a little. Frank stopped snapping. 

“You  _ do _ know we’re in a Seminary, right? Especially the house of the Lord himself?” Gerard gestured to the Chapel around them, which Frank only snorted at, shaking his head. 

“In my experience, He likes a swear or two in prayer.”

“Your experience…?”   
  


“I am  _ not _ spilling my trauma to you, Gerard. We just met. Ask me some other time.”

“Oh.” And that was the end of their verbal conversation. Frank bowed his head close to the cross, eyes shut, but not trapped in their darkness. Gerard watched in awe, Frank’s lips dancing like a soft glow of a candle flame, eyelashes fluttering against his paled skin. The uniform was much too big on him, Gerard noticed, and he wondered if they even made Frocks in his size. Frank was very small and slight, barely five feet Gerard guessed and with an even smaller waist. He couldn’t possibly even fit a men’s small, which had to suck trying to buy adults clothes. Frank just looked….young. A lot younger than Gerard, that’s for certain. 

The two had a somber night from there, the only sound being the clinking of Frank’s dual rosaries and the soft sizzle of flame on a candle wick. Gerard spent most of the time staring, actually. He couldn’t pull his eyes off Frank. How could someone so strange and unusual be so comforting and familiar. Actually, scratch that. Frank wasn’t comforting. He scared the  _ crap _ out of Gerard, despite not even really trying to. He was just so….ethereal. Gerard couldn’t claim to understand it, but he envied it in a way, that ability to be so hauntingly everywhere. When he closed his eyes, Gerard saw Frank there, cross pressed to his lips as he whispered soliloquies Gerard couldn’t possibly begin to understand. 

  
  


They prayed until early in the morning, and only as the sun began to rize did he realize things would be over soon. Frank stood up, and his eyes glinted a small farewell. 

  
  


“Thank you.” He said quietly, and he was walking away before Gerard’s heart could beat twice. 

Gerard pondered over whether chasing after him was reasonable or not. 

“Frank, wait! Why haven’t I seen you in class-” Gerard started down the hallway, but realized he heard no footsteps and sensed no life. Frank was gone, and Gerard was left alone to his own devices. 

Maybe he  _ had _ seen a spirit after all, holy or otherwise. 


End file.
